


Eavesdropping

by beeyouteaful



Category: British Actor RPF
Genre: Depression, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Light Angst, Physical Abuse, Tom's POV, Verbal Abuse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 05:19:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,019
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17698406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beeyouteaful/pseuds/beeyouteaful
Summary: Tom's costar disappears from set early, and he decides to take her a snack after production wraps for the day. When he gets to her trailer, he stumbles upon a conversation he wasn't meant to hear.





	Eavesdropping

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: This work regards sensitive themes, such as emotional and financial abuse, physical abuse (in the form of medical neglect), and depression. Please read with caution.

(Y/n) had left long before the crew wrapped for the day. It was uncharacteristic of her to do so, and Tom wondered why. She seemed fine while they were filming.

The two had hit it off fairly soon after the first table read. There was something about the young girl that attracted everyone to her, much like the way Tom had on any set he worked. She was friendly, kind, adaptable, and willing, and she always had an energy about her that could keep everyone going for hours. When he introduced himself to her, it was jarring how similar their personalities were, but it was equally incredible how they could light up the studio together. He’d finally met his female counterpart.

There was no denying their chemistry. They often threw banter around at each other without regard for how weird it could sound. He was always gentle with her, but she gave him a run for his money sometimes with her stubbornness, and that was when Tough Tom would come out.

He laughed at his brief reminiscing, and after he finished taking off his makeup, he grabbed two waters and a blueberry muffin—her favorite—from the craft services table and made his way to her trailer. Some members of the crew said goodnight to him as he crossed the lot. He nodded with a smile in reply to each one.

As he reached the door of her trailer, quiet sobs halted his fist from knocking. Tom’s mouth twitched into a frown and his eyebrows furrowed. He’d never heard her cry before, and he wasn’t sure what to do. Should he knock? Should he leave her alone? What would he want if their roles were swapped?

He shoved the waters under his arm and reached for the doorknob, turning it as quietly as he could. He crept inside the trailer and saw her huddled on the bed with a phone to her ear and her back facing him. Her hair had been hastily pulled up into a messy bun, and she wore a short silk dressing gown. If it had been any other time, Tom would have taken the time to appreciate how the string lights created a soft, ethereal glow around her.

“I know.” He heard her voice shake. “I know. It’s—” She paused and listened to the other end before she cried out in despair, and it tugged at Tom’s chest. “Mom, please… stop—stop—how could you even say that?” she gasped. He had to try so hard to hold himself back from rushing to her bed to comfort her; he knew he shouldn’t be eavesdropping, though he couldn’t stop. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? For once? I finally landed a decent role… No, I haven’t sent any money. And I won't. Stop asking.” She sighed and leaned forward to rub her temples with her free hand. “You already drained my other account. I haven’t been able to pay any—I told you to stop calling me a whore!” she cried. “I don’t… I don’t _do that_ anymore.”

Tom’s eyes widened in shock. He _definitely_ shouldn’t be listening to this. She would be so embarrassed if she knew he had heard her. But he didn't want to just leave her. She was his best friend. What was he supposed to do?

His heart ached when she sobbed. It pained him to see her this way, and he couldn't figure out exactly why. He was a nice person, but nice people didn't just hurt like this for other people, did they? Was it because he liked her? Tom hadn't really admitted it—or even thought much about it—but maybe he had a crush on (y/n). They were so similar, it was hard not to.

“Would you just leave me alone?” Tom’s head jolted up. He thought she was asking _him_ that, but her back was still turned. “You've taken all my money already. I don’t have anything else to give you. This could be my big break! I just want to do my job without… how do you know about that?” _Know about what?_ Tom thought. He was being so nosey and he felt terrible. “That's _illegal_. You can't just call for my medical records—how am I still on your insurance? I'm over the age of dependence…” What the hell was even happening? “It helps with my depression… yes I _do_ , mom. My doctor told me the Zoloft would help, and I've been seeing a therapist…” she sighed and rubbed her temple. “You cancelled it?! You’re such a fucking—I need them!” Her voice shook and the hand that had been soothing her head curled into a fist by her side. “If you do something like this again, I'm calling the fucking cops. I mean it this time. I'm so tired of this. I'm so _tired_.”

She hung up and threw the phone at the wall next to her. It wasn’t hard enough to shatter, but Tom supposed it was just for the action of throwing something. Her knees curled up to her chest, and she leaned her head down on them, openly weeping. He decided that it would be better if he left her alone, so he opened the door to leave, but the setting sunlight that shone in through the crack caught her attention and her head whipped to look at him.

Tom stood there like a deer in headlights. The waters were still snug between his bicep and side, and he held the muffin defeatedly in his hand. Her eyes flicked over his tall body, equally scared.

“…What did you hear?”

“I just thought you'd want a little—”

“Tom. What did you hear?” she repeated, more urgent. He sighed and set his belongings down on the counter, standing to his full height.

“Most of it.”

“Oh, god,” she whimpered, holding her head in her hands. “I shouldn't have let you see me like this.”

“Hey, hey. It's my fault for intruding.” In about five strides, he was there beside her, kneeling at the edge of the bed. “I shouldn't have listened.”

(Y/n) continued to cry into her hands. Tom was in panic mode. Now _he_ had been the one to make her cry, and he suddenly felt the need to vomit.

“(Y/n),” he forced out. “(Y/n), talk to me. You don't have to do this alone.”

She shook her head in response. A cry wracked her entire body, and Tom climbed onto the bed and pulled her into his chest. He didn’t know what else to do.

“I care about you so much, (y/n)... You don’t have to do this alone,” he repeated and stroked her hair. “I’m here. I’m here.”

The pair lay on her bed well into the night. (Y/n) had passed out after a near hour of sobbing. Tom just rocked her gently in his arms and soothed her with quiet hushes.

Now, she was curled into herself on the booth in her kitchenette, picking aimlessly at the bottom half of her muffin. Tom sat beside her, closer than they normally would, at her request. They sat in silence for ages. It was already dark outside—around 8 PM.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to get us dinner?”

“You can get food. I’m not hungry.” Her answers, while still short, were getting longer with each passing hour. He wasn’t sure whether or not being firm with her would help, but being soft had only gotten him so far.

“Not even soup? You need something more than half a muffin.”

She turned to him, eyes bloodshot and puffy. His skin started to itch under her stare. No matter how assertive he tried to be right now, the way she watched him incredulously spoke volumes. He could tell she was still calculating his motives and how much she should trust him, but he still wasn’t sure what made her behavior toward him change so drastically.

“No.”

Then again, she did get grumpy when she was hungry.

“My darling.” His pet name for her always made her smile, and he could see the slightest curl to her lips break through her hard shell. “Let me take you out. You don’t have to talk, but you need fresh air and a walk.”

She shook her head weakly.

“I’m not a dog.”

He wasn’t taking no for an answer.

“Up. Come on.” He took her hands in his and pulled her to her feet. “I’ve tried being reasonable, but you’re just being stubborn now.”

He helped her balance as she slipped on some sandals before they left her trailer hand-in-hand. By now, most of the crew were gone, so they wouldn’t run into any trouble with people seeing them. The production lot wasn’t much, as they were shooting in a remote section of Upstate New York, so there wasn’t a huge chance of running into any locals either.

“You know you can talk to me about anything, right?” He squeezed her hand. “I really care about you. You’re my best friend.”

She sighed and squeezed his hand back, letting him know—without words—that she knew. As they rounded the corner of a building, Tom halted suddenly and pulled her to a stop in front of him.

“No. I don’t think you really get it, and that’s my fault.” Her eyes were wide with shock. “I _love_ you, (y/n). I need you to know that. I need you to know that I love you so very much. You mean the world to me, and I can’t believe it took me so long to realize it myself.”

She stared at him, as if he’d grown two extra heads.

“Is this a prank?”

Tom laughed aloud and shook his head.

“Of course not. I want to be here for you. To listen to you, to hold you, to protect you. I love you.”

The next thing he knew, her arms were wrapped around his torso like a vise. Her body was as warm as a setting sun on his face.

“I love you, too.”

“Why didn’t you come to me?”

“I… I was scared you’d leave me. I mean, you weren’t even _mine_ to leave me in the first place, but I—”

Tom pulled her to his chest for a crushing hug.

“I won’t leave you. I wouldn’t dream of it.”

“Tom… I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“For not telling you. I wanted to tell you, I really really did, because I knew you’d care. But I just thought you’d think I was crazy. I couldn’t risk it getting out on my first big production, y’know? I just got on my feet financially and mentally, and I don’t want to be blacklisted for being crazy, especially after I’ve met all these amazing people—met _you_. But somehow my mother managed to fuck it all up again…”

Tom smiled to himself as she rambled on and on. She was finally sounding like herself again. Confident-yet-protective and animated. Just the way he loved.

“My darling,” he interrupted, realizing he was lost in his thoughts of her instead of listening. Besides, they were off the set now, and he didn’t want any prying eyes to see her speaking about her lowest moments. “Why don’t we get some dinner and go back to my trailer for the night. You can tell me everything. Or nothing. But I’ll be right by your side.”

She sniffled and rubbed her eyes but smiled.

“Okay. Can we get Chinese?”

“That sounds amazing right now.”

“Aaaand can we watch more of _The Good Place_?”

Tom grinned and squeezed her to his side.

“I think that can be arranged.”

She giggled softly in delight and took his hand again as they walked through the alleyway toward the restaurant district. This felt good. Natural. As if they were meant to hold each other just so. He knew it would be a long journey to help (y/n), but he was ready to do anything for her—starting with Chinese food and _The Good Place_.

**Author's Note:**

> Just wanted to add (in case anyone's rolled their eyes at this) that I wrote this when I was struggling through a major depressive episode and just wanted Tom to come save me from it all, so it does have a bit of a metaphorical "magical healing cock" vibe to it, but it comes from an honest place of longing (and truly, I think if someone could come along and heal all of our wounds or kiss all our scars and fix us, we would take it in a heartbeat).
> 
> Thanks for reading!


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